


and when no hope was left in sight

by Plexus (toitsu)



Series: This charming man [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Second POV, Suicide Attempt, fucking angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toitsu/pseuds/Plexus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wouldn't it be grand? if he stopped haunting you at night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when no hope was left in sight

**Author's Note:**

> time to bring this to an end, i guess. thank you, everyone who commented, left kudos, and bookmarked this series. thank you so much.  
> title from 'vincent' by don mcleon

and wouldn't it be grand, if he stopped haunting you at night?

if the gun stopped taunting you, lying on the table or locked in a drawer; if a coctail of alcohol and pills didn't sound so appealing; if the bomb never went off – wouldn't it be grand?

if your house wasn't empty,  your life silent? if your life never happened? wouldn't it be grand?

a criminal, a soldier, and now a child molester, even if eren would refuse to see it that way.

wouldn't it be grand? if he stopped haunting you at night?

 

i.

if he stopped sneaking around, trying to get a glimpse of you? you keep your curtains drawn, your house in constant dark – hard to catch glimpses of yourself, too, in reflective surfaces. a criminal, a soldier, and now a child molester.

you remember how you thought, _could it suck any more,_ lulled by morphium and in your hospital bed; your laughter rings hollow in the empty house.

days pass, in this permanent semi-dark. the house crumbles, the dirt collects. your garden grows, wild and vicious – things with thorns and rotten at the core, searching for the cracks in the walls.

wouldn't it be grand? if he stopped haunting you at night?

if your shoulder didn't hurt? if the bomb never went off? if hanji was here? wouldn't it be grand? wouldn't it? _wouldn't it_?

the house crumbles. wouldn't it be grand, if it fell apart? if the roof caved in, the bricks fell out, one by one, all at once;  wouldn't it?

wouldn't it be grand, if you spilled your brains with a gun?

 

i.

you choose pills in the end, choose them over knife or gun because – because he would probably be the first to find you, the only one who would care and the thought of him finding you in pieces is discomfiting, you don't want – (you remember, the sand and the bodies and what remained of your arm, petra's blank gaze, that _bloody_ sand) – you don't want that. you think, this will hurt him enough, and wish it wouldn't, wish he'd just stop – stop caring.

so you eat them all up, one by one, and your shoulder twinges in pain, synced with _tap-tap-tap_ on the windows – how fitting, rain – you stand on legs that are growing numb and drag yourself to the window, draw the curtains back – watch it fall until everything fades to black black black.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you get a sad ending! and you get a sad ending! everybody gets a sad ending!  
> ...well, if this makes you that sad, you can choose to imagine whatever you want happened after everything faded to black :)


End file.
